An Endless SongOwaranai Uta
by Isis1
Summary: Based off of Movie. I injected my OFC marie in the Crows story follows both movies starts off with Marie McMiller/Serizawa Tamao then becomes Marie/Izaki Shun. I promise, it's tasteful and not mary-sue. READ and REVIEW and I'll give you Cookies. :D


**Owaranai Uta **

**(An Endless Song)**

**Chapter I.**

The door bell rang . . . once – twice – three times, a pause, and then it rang nonstop. With a groan, a very short, pale body fell off the couch, abruptly waking from a deep slumber. Dark Green eyes popped open, annoyed greatly at such a rude awakening. "Ughh," she groaned again, wiping the eye bright from her eyes. What the hell? Marie McMiller pulled herself off the floor clumsily, taking the time to glance at the clock on the wall. Midnight. Again, what the hell?

"Ome!" a demanding, brusque voice yelled from the other side of the door. "Kochi oide yo! Sammui!"

(Hey! Get over here! It's cold!)

"Naturally," Marie mumbled, not speeding up one step. Yawning, she continued to amble toward the door, running a hand through a mess of short Red hair. That did nothing to make it any less unkempt.

"Hayaku!" the voice yelled again, impatient and freezing. Then the door shook with an all mighty force, echoing through out the tiny apartment. (Hurry up!)

All she could do was blink dumbly at the door, thinking, "did he just kick MY door?" Finally, the girl opened the it, revealing a very aggravated Bando Hideto. As her eyes moved upward from his feet to his face, a thrill of lust ran through her body, taking in the big Black boots, the leather, and of course his dark, dangerous face. Bando, a tall, domineering figure, with looks so fierce, that half the time Marie couldn't bear to look upon him. Yet, she found she could turn away either.

"Osoi na," he said, brushing past her into the apartment. (You're slow.)

Marie stood in the same spot, a blank expression on her round countenance. "Sure," she told the frigid night air sarcastically, "come on in, make yourself at home." Shutting the door, she locked it securely. When she turned around, Bando was all ready lounging on the couch. A small disdainful look came upon her at seeing that he hadn't even bothered to take off his muddy boots. For a few moments she merely studied him. His eyes were closed, that famous shadowy, pensive expression etched across his brow. God, she thought, does he even know how utterly beautiful he is . . . at least when he's quiet, she added with a smirk. There were only two possible reasons that he was here right now: one, his parents were fighting again, or two, he wanted to get laid.

"Biru nomitai ka?" Marie eventually asked, her voice a whisper of softness. (Want a beer?)

"Ie." Bando never opened his eyes, barely acknowledging her existence. Then, he lifted his arm, holding out a hand in her general direction. That was strange, even for him. She had never seen Bando Hideto so subdued, it was almost like he was a newborn kitten. Usually he came and went like the wind, taking what he wanted and leaving the rest.

After a few moments, she moved to stand beside him. It was then she noticed his face. Obviously he had been in a fight, a really big one from the looks of it. Without thinking, Marie reached down to touch his face, tracing the contours. When she came to a particular tender spot, he flinched. Bando's hand came up swiftly, latching onto her wrist tightly. Each of his eyes opened one at a time to peer at her harshly.

His hand on her wrist was like unadulterated fire compared to her icy flesh. Only his gaze could burn more brightly than his touch. "Daijobu?" she whispered, for lack of better words. (Are you okay?) Bando's answer was to move her hand to rest over his heart. It was still pulsating wildly, pumping hot, excited blood through his veins. It was times like these that Marie could fool herself into believing that she was in love with the boy; that he was in love with her. But she knew better – a lot better. If he had been in a fight (which he clearly had been) then he wanted what every man wanted: to calm himself in the arms of a woman.

"Kimi ga hoshii," he told her not even blinking. (I want you.) This only proved her suspicions to be correct. What a typical male.

"Dekinai," she replied, moving her hand away from his body. "Ima ja nakute." (I can't. Not now.)

Of course that wasn't good enough for him. Bando wasn't the type of guy you refused. More precisely he did not like to be refused by her. Marie wasn't looking at him anymore, but staring at her hands as if they were the most interesting things in the world. She knew that if she did meet his eyes, she probably would have given in.

In a blink of an eye, Bando grabbed her by both arms, pulling her on top of him so she lay partly between his legs. Their faces were so close now, Marie could smell the leather and the cigarette smoke that perpetually lingered on his skin. Likewise, Bando subtly inhaled the light scent of Vanilla. She always smelled like Vanilla, even the cigarettes that she smoked were Vanilla flavoured. Slowly, he kissed his way up the side of her face, from her chin to her ear, only to murmur huskily, "Ii kaori." (You smell good.) Teasingly, he grazed her ear lobe with his teeth.

At long last, Marie fell limp into his arms. He pulled her tightly to his body, making sure that she could feel every inch of him. Bando found that her diminutive body fit so perfectly into his, which never ceased to amaze him. While she was terribly short (five foot one at the most) and well rounded, he was tall, and lithe. He wanted to tell her so many times – tell her look how our bodies fit so perfectly together. But he didn't, and never would. There were a lot of things that Bando wanted to tell her, yet when the time came, his words fell silent.

Instead of speaking sweet, candy coated endearments, Bando entangled a hand into her vibrant hair, pulling her mouth to his. A soft noise of pleasure came from her lips, making him grin into the kiss. He never had to fight for dominance when it came down to it, she always let him take her. Bando ran a hand up under the back of the over sized t-shirt she was wearing, tracing the curve of her back. Her skin was cool and pallid, a beam of moonlight cutting through water. His hand moved, sliding around under the front of the shirt, cupping one breast.

Marie sighed, not out of pleasure, but out of weariness. Is there anything more than this? It was almost like a routine between the two of them. They would go weeks without seeing or hearing from one another, then Bando would show up at her door, and she'd give in. She wondered, is this all I amount to to him? Some cheap toy to be played with from time to time, then sat back on the shelf until the next game? When Marie felt his hand slide lower, she abruptly pulled away from the kiss.

Bando immediately opened his eyes, glaring at her with astonishment. She wanted him to say something – anything, or maybe even look honestly hurt by her rejection. But she realized that was too much to ask of Bando Hideto. The clock on the wall ticked loudly, counting the minutes that passed. Suddenly, he pushed her off of him roughly. Marie let out a startled noise, landing on the far end of the couch. All at once it made the girl feel a bit guilty: she had wounded his pride.

He swung his legs over the couch, his boot clad feet hitting the floor with a loud thud. Watching as one of the muscles in his face clench, Marie felt as if she should say something. She didn't. There were really no more words to be said, not anymore. Bando whipped his head to the side to stare at her. The girl recoiled as if she were expecting him to hit her. He scoffed, then shook his head not understanding girls at all.

"Tada atashi to netain desho." (All you wanna' do is sleep with me.) It seemed like she had found her voice after all. That cleared up everything for Bando. But he still couldn't wrap his head around about how the gears turned in a girl's head. Let's be honest for a moment, what guy really does? That aside, the relationship they shared was tumultuous – to say the least. It had never been built on foundations of love or promises. Mainly lust (for Bando) and having nothing better to do (for Marie.) They hadn't even know each for long. He had only transferred to Suzuran at the beginning of the school year, and Marie went to a special school for gifted musicians/singers/song writers. Somewhere along the way, the girl had hoped that it wouldn't only be just sex or whatever.

Pulling her knees to her chest, Marie wondered how she always manage to get into these predicaments. Ah, now she remembered, there was usually a boy involved when it came to her suffering. Bando Hideto was just one on the long list of heartaches that she had racked up.

"Kimi tsummane," Bando finally said, then stood up, walking directly to the door. (You're boring.) Then he was gone. There were no tears, no dramatics, and no fisticuffs, simply because she (normally) wasn't that type of girl.

After a while Marie stood up, grabbing a pack of cigarettes off the table. Walking to the door, she picked up her black trench coat on the way out. There were two chairs outside the door to her apartment and the neighbour's door. This was where she liked to come to think and smoke. It was cramped in her apartment, a tight little space that she felt trapped in most of the time. The view wasn't much to brag about, this being one of the low income housing complexes. Yep, the poor side of town. But it was home now, it had been for nearly four years. She was only here on a scholarship, and you better believe they weren't going to pay for some swanky, upscale place in Tokyo or Kyoto.

The night was unbearably cold, moisture hanging in the air from the previous downpour. Though she was chilled to the bone, on the brink of shivering, the atmosphere somehow made her feel alive. Footsteps sounded up the stairs from her left. Inhaling a deep breath of smoke, she leaned back lazily in her chair. The footsteps stopped at the top of the stairs, making her turn her head to see who it was.

"Nanka ata no?" Serizawa Tamao asked his next door neighbour. (What's going on?) Marie didn't answer him right away, she merely took in his appearance. He too, was all scrapes, bruises, mud, and enough blood to donate dried on his clothes. Not to mention his face.

"Betsu ni," she finally answered, flicking her cigarette out over the railing. "Daijobu?" (Nothing much. Are you okay?)

"Ma ma," he shrugged nonchalantly. (So-so.)

Serizawa and Marie had live next door to one another for almost the entire duration of her attending school in Japan. So, in a way, you could say they grew up together. It was only a couple of years ago though that from time to time they'd sit outside their apartments, share a beer or two (or a lot actually) smoke, and in general just bull shit.

"Oe suru hodo busu dayo," Marie told him with a half-grin on her face. (You look like shit.)

"Ah, thank you," he said, sarcasm dripping from his words, "yasashii ne." (You're so nice.)

"Sore shitteru, kawaii mo." (I know, I'm cute, too.)

That made him snort, finding it all rather funny at the moment. Not only was Marie his neighbour, but she was the resident babysitter for the complex. Serizawa's eight year old little Brother loved the hell out of her. He never did see why. In fact most kids loved Marie, something she herself never got. It wasn't that she liked or disliked children. For the most part they were "okay" in small doses.

"Oka-san . . ." Serizawa began, but she interrupted before could finish. (Mom . . .)

"Wakatteru. Atashitachi hanasokatta." (I know. We talked.)

"Ah, sokka." (I see.)

Marie was scheduled to babysit Friday night. Babysitting didn't bother her, not really anyway. Five days out of the week she went to school, after school she worked part time at a small cafe as a waitress/cook, and usually on the weekends her life was filled with little imps. Also known as Children. For an eighteen almost nineteen year old girl, her life was pretty mundane. Nothing out of the ordinary ever happened. This year was her last year at the school, and quite frankly she had no idea where she was going or how she was going to get there.

Serizawa unlocked the door to his apartment, about to go inside, but immediately stopped when Marie called out to him. "Ne, Tamao?" (Hey, Tamao.)That damn near startled him: she had never called him that before. The girl was always so formal when addressing people by their names, even her best friend she usually added san or chan. He sometimes thought she was more Japanese than him. Which was funny in its own right, if you thought about long enough. "Zettai daijobu?" (Are you really sure you're okay?)

" . . . so," he nodded, looking greatly perplexed. She never pushed the subject of his well being. Never.

"Tokio do shitteru?" (How's Tokio doing?)

"Tokio genki." (He's fine.)

"Sore kiite ureshii." (I'm happy to hear that.)

"Ome," Serizawa took a few steps closer to where she was sitting. She looked up at him briefly, but it was long enough for him to see tears streaking down her face. His fist clenched involuntarily then unclenched. One of the only things that could make him weak in the knees was to see a girl cry. "Do shittan dayo?" (Hey. What's wrong?)

"Ohh," Marie furiously swiped away a few uncontrollable tears, "nani mo." (Nothing.)

"Sonna no uso yo," he sat down in the chair beside her. "Naku shite." (That's a lie. You're crying.)

All Marie managed was to sniffle pathetically. Just why was she crying? Hadn't she been the one to put a stop the her-Bando thing in the first place. There were sudden second thoughts about not having him in her life. There just had to be more – more to life than casual snogs and such. Right? Right?

"Baka ni suruna yo," Serizawa sighed, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his shirt. He lit two, handing one to her. (Don't think I'm stupid.) Even though she loathed the brand he smoked, she took a long drag. In reality she thought that she was the stupid one. "Kimi to Bando, daro?" (You and Bando, right?)

"Eh?" Marie asked, not really surprised that Serizawa knew what was going on. They did live right next to each other after all. What did surprise her was that he had chosen to not comment on it until now. Generally, the boy liked to run off at the mouth, in her opinion. "Shitteruta, huh?" (What? You knew, huh?)

"Mochiron," he resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her thinking he was THAT ignorant. "Demo . . .Nande, Bando?" (Of course. But . . . why him?)

"Nande dame nano." (Why not.)

"Aitsu imaichi." (He's a loser.)

"Tabun, chigaun ja nai no." (Maybe, maybe not.)

"Kiite . . ." he started, but Marie really wasn't in the mood to be given advice. Especially from him. (Listen . . .)

"Kankei nai daro," she said evenly. "Kankei nai wa." (It's none of your business. It means nothing to me.)

"Honto ni?" (You sure?)

"Ii, honto ni." (Yes, I'm sure.) Marie stood up, flicking her cigarette off into the distance. "Tabako arigato na." (Thanks for the cigarette.) She turned to open her door, but before she went in, the girl added, "Oyasumi." (Night.)

"Ah, ja ne." (Yeah, see you later.)

…......................................

"Come on!" Aizawa Ruka pleaded with Marie. "Do it!"

"No," Marie steadily blew a stream of smoke out of her mouth.

Aizawa Ruka and Marie McMiller attended the same school, and had been friends since their second year. While Ruka was an abnormally talented singer, Marie was the genius song writer. The musical institute they went to wasn't just for any average person though. The school consisted of singers/musicians/song writers. And there were some pretty steep requirements that you had to have or your application wouldn't even be good enough for the school board to wipe their asses with. If you were a vocalist, like Ruka, you had to have a good knowledge of English, Latin, French, German, and Italian. All the greatest operas were written in one of the those languages. If you were a song writer, like, Marie then you had to know how to read and write in one of those languages. Lastly, for a musician, you had to know how to play at least three different instruments, piano being a must for one of the three. Hence, more often than not, Marie and Ruka conversed in English rather than in Ruka's native tongue.

Marie threw her cigarette to the ground, crushing it out with the toe of her knee-high, lace up boot. Ruka looked a little disgusted, yet said nothing. At the moment Ruka was begging her to sing the the theme song to Laverne and Shirley with her. She also wanted to link arms and run down the street. Of course they had done this many times before, so that wasn't so unusual. But Marie was in a dour mood, so she didn't want to do anything but chain smoke and drink coffee.

Pulling her black trench coat tighter around her body, she shivered in the brisk air. Winter was on the heels of Autumn, soon snow would be on the ground. Marie, perpetually the odd one, adored the freezing weather and rain. And it rained quite often in Japan. The climate was probably the thing she loved most about the four tiny islands.

"Ne," Ruka moved in front of her friend, breaking the abstracted look on her face, "did something happen?" Marie looked up at Ruka, feeling very short at seeing the statuesque girl in front of her. Most of the time, she didn't like to divulge any of her problems or worries on her friends, fearing it would burden them. She was a loner by nature, but managed to keep a few good friends around.

"No," Marie belatedly said.

"Oh, okay," Ruka nodded blandly. She had a suspicion the sourness in Marie's behaviour that morning had something to do with Bando. Even though she knew that Bando really didn't have anything to do with her and Kyoko's kidnapping, Ruka still had a strong distaste for the guy. The girl also knew that Marie was a big girl and could take care of herself. That didn't stop her from worrying or caring about her though. "Did he – hurt you?" A bit of trepidation slipped through her tone.

"Ha!" Marie practically fell over laughing at the idea. "I hurt myself. Again."

"Are you gonna' be okay?"

"You know me, I'm always okay."

"Good. Wanna' go get that coffee now?" Ruka smiled, elaborating on how truly eloquent she was. Their favourite coffee shop was just around the corner, a tiny, cozy place called Zille's. Marie grinned in spite of her uneasy feelings under the surface; coffee tended to do that to her.

"Believe it!" Marie held out a thumbs up sign, purposely grinning retardedly. Ruka rolled her eyes at the jest, thinking her friend watched way too much television. Playfully, the Red Head linked arms with Ruka, beginning to sing the theme song to Laverne and Shirley.

"Schlimiel, schlimazel, hasenpfeffer, incorporated!" the girls sang and danced merrily. They ran down the street full speed, which awarded them with odd, freaked out looks. But they didn't really care. Besides, nobody could hear them well enough to know what they were singing.

By the time they got to the coffee shop, the two were much out breath. For a few moments they stood in front of the coffee shop, clinging to each other, laughing hysterically. After that, Marie was all ready in a better mood, and the prospect of a steaming cup of coffee helped, too. The only down side to singing that song was that now it would probably be in her head all day.

Then, Ruka's cell phone rang out with some bothersome chirping noises. She pulled it out of her purse, answering it directly. "Moshi moshi?" Ruka greeted, "Ah, Oka-san, doshita no?" (Hello. Mom, what's wrong?) Aizawa Ruka crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue at Marie, who in turn hid her titters behind a hand. The taller girl walked off so Marie wouldn't hear her Mother's chastising.

Marie moved to lean on the glass window in front of Zille's. She dug out a cigarette, lighting it quickly. Letting her eyes wander aimlessly about, they landed on three figures walking up the street in her direction. Instantaneously, she recognized them. One was Serizawa Tamao, the other Tatsukawa Tokio who in between, and the last boy . . . Well, he looked familiar somehow, but Marie couldn't quite place a name. Should I know him, she asked herself.

As Marie was shamelessly staring at the trio walking up the street, she had no idea that she was being watched as well. Across from Zille's Izaki Shun and Tokaji Yuji were pretty much thinking the same thing . . . "why the hell is she checking out Genji/Tamao?" It was kind of unnerving because it looked like she either going to eat them or turn into a thirteen year old squealing fan girl. Unnerving indeed.

Damn, Marie thought to herself, eye threatening to twitch at any moment, is it just me or is Serizawa-kun looking good today? Wait a minute! Did I just think that? Yes, yes you did, idiot. He's your friend, stop acting so loser-style. You're just feeling lonely. Pathetic. Shut up brain! Shut up, shut up, shut up!!! Marie pulled at her hair, yanking on it as hard as she could. Naturally, she would choose to argue with herself and have a freak out just as Serizawa, Tokio, and Genji walked up. They gave one another a look, wondering just what in the hell was happening.

Her kohl rimmed eyes were clenched shut, blocking out everything as she tried to convince herself that she really hadn't just scammed on Serizawa Tamao. Yeah, good luck with that. Marie tugged at hair once more, then said loudly, "God, would you just shut up all ready! I fucking hate you!"

"Ahem . . ." Tokio cleared his throat carefully as to not anger her, "daijobu?" (Are you okay?)

"What?!" she cried, jumping at the sound of his voice. Opening her eyes, she took a few quick steps backwards to distance herself from the three boys. How embarrassing. "Oh shit . . ."

Kyugatsu Jurokunichi, Yabusame

September 16, Horseback Archery of Tsurugaoka Hachimangu Shrine

(Kamakura)

**Author's Note and Disclaimer:**

**I don't own anything, and have anything that you'd want, so there. Haha!**

***INTERESTING FACTS & MISCELLANEOUS CRAPOLA***

**Most of the Japanese used in this story is very informal and can get a bit racy, so be warned if you use any of these sayings, heart attacks are to be expected. At least in Japan. Lol. So it's okay if you want to impress your friends with this awesome vocabulary. **

**Next, the title to my story is Owaranai Uta, which is the title to a song from favourite band (tied with the Clash of course) The Blue Hearts. It means An Endless Song. Go get the song, listen to it, look up the translated lyrics, you'll fall in love with The Blue Hearts! **

**I guess I should add, that while my computer was broken, I was forced to write out the entire story by hand. So, I've filled up two five subject Five Star Notebooks with this Epic Tale. Be assured there are lots more chapters coming. I just need to get my butt in gear and transfer it from paper to computer. **

**Last but not least, my Japanese is a bit rusty, but when in doubt always remember, SOV (subject object verb.) In the Japanese language, this is how their sentence structuring is. The verb always comes last. :D **

**I love you all, and I love Worst (Crows Zero.)**

"**Isn't it better to live detested as a Crow than to live as a caged bird?" - Takahashi Hiroshi (Worst and Crows Manga)**

**Lyrics to Theme Song From Laverne and Shirley**

**Making Our Dreams Come True**

**One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.  
Schlimiel, schlimazel, hasenpfeffer, incorporated!  
We're gonna do it!  
Give us any chance, we'll take it.  
Give us any rule, we'll break it.  
We're gonna make our dreams come true.  
Doin' it our way.  
Nothing's gonna turn us back now,  
Straight ahead and on the track now.  
We're gonna make our dreams come true,  
Doin' it our way.  
There is nothing we won't try,  
Never heard the word impossible.  
This time there's no stopping us.  
We're gonna do it.  
On your mark, get set, and go now,  
Got a dream and we just know now,  
We're gonna make our dream come true.  
And we'll do it our way, yes our way.  
Make all our dreams come true,  
And do it our way, yes our way,  
Make all our dreams come true  
For me and you. **


End file.
